


The Band Is Playing Too Slow

by CobaltStargazer



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, But Maybe He Diidn't, Dancing, Doomed Relationship, F/M, Maybe He Made It, Regret
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2019-04-22 15:41:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14311932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CobaltStargazer/pseuds/CobaltStargazer
Summary: Heartache's a stubborn musician, and it's playing a song that won't end.





	The Band Is Playing Too Slow

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to see if I could make *myself* cry.

"You made it."

"Of course I did. I owe you a dance, and I always keep my promises."

He's never been to the Stork Club before, has never has reason to. Bucky's the charmer, the one who's always got a ready smile and honeyed words to turn a girl's head. He was too sickly before; too sickly, too nervous, too much gentleman and not enough rogue. Until he met Peggy.

It was the first time a woman noticed him first, and though he would never admit it - Bucky's his friend, his only _true_ friend - it warmed something inside him to hear Barnes admit that he felt invisible. Steve always wished he had Bucky's confidence, his ease with everyone, not just women. 

It's eight o clock, just like she told him, ans they're both dressed in their uniforms. Her hair is freshly styled, he can smell the product when he gets closer to kiss her on the cheek. Her mouth is a dark-red slash in the lights of the bandstand. her eyes carrying a spark that hit him the second he spotted her in the crowd. It isn't busy yet. The evening's still young, and Steve presents her with the single rose he bought froma street vendor. It's a little wilted, because he bought it that afternoon, but she smiles at it before going up on her toes to kiss his cheek.

"I told the band to play something really slow," she said, gesturing towards the gathered musicians. "I hope you don't mind following my lead until you get the hang of dancing."

Steve shakes his head, taking off his cap to put it down on the little round table next to the dance floor. For once, it seems like he knows exactly what to do, doesn't have to fumble around for words while feeling like an idiot. Peggy's hand seems impossibly small in his when he takes it, but simultaneously it feels as if she could pin him to the floor with little trouble. Over the top of her head, he sees the horn section warming up. He's crazy about her, and he promised her this dance.

When the music begins, he recognizes a version of {i]Stardust[/i], which is slow to begin with, and Peggy's hand on the small of his back is a warmth he can feel even through the heavy fabric of his uniform jacket. He got his hair cut, his shoes shined, and a shave even though he barely needed it. The war seems very far away. He feels something that's so dangerously like love that it's disquieting, because he wasn't meant to live this long. It was only through the miracle of Abraham Erskine's serum that he got to do what everyone else was doing, be strong enough to fight for his country.

"See? You're not as clumsy as you thought."

She smiles up at him, and it's blinding and brilliant and beautiful, and though he doesn't know her as well as he'd like, he sees a _future_ ahead, the one thing he thought he'd never have. He holds her a little tighter, even risks a short dip, and he manages to keep time because his heart has fallen into rhythm with hers. He loves her, maybe, and he made it the way he said he would.

But something's wrong with the music, because it's slowing down even past the moderate tempo the band has set. Peggy doesn't seem to notice, and so Steve keeps up his smile. He never knew how to dance before, but now it's...effortless. She's light in his arms, but as they continue to move around the floor it isn't just the music that's fading, it's her. Steve holds tighter, his still newly-strong hands clasping together, but it's like trying to hold sand. He doesn't want to let go, to lose this small, sweet dream, but he can tell his grip is failing him. Or maybe he was never strong enough to hold her in the first place.

"Peggy..."

He wants to say it before she's gone, because that gorgeously refined face is transparent now, and his heart is breaking. He wants this, even _needs_ it, to give himself an anchor. Something to go home to when the war is finally over. But she's disappearing and the band has gone silent and his voice won't work. If he doesn't say it now, he'll never say it....

"I love..."

He wakes, and he's alone. He's alone and it's the present and Peggy married someone else because he didn't make it back in time. He missed their date, and maybe as a result he missed the rest of his life. _Their_ life. The clock on the nightstand says it's ten til four in the morning, and without turning on the light Steve finds the picture he's kept of her all these years. It was the one thing from his time in the ice he never got rid of, and though he can barely see it in the dark, he's memorized every line of her face. The way she used to be is the way she still is in some ways, as if she never aged. He knows regret, which shares the space next to him in bed in a way she never did. But if she haunts his dreams, never getting so close that he gets to tell her what he never said but never going so far away that he's fully free of her, then the pain of it is a welcome sting.

Steve wipes his eyes with the back of one hand, puts the picture aside. If he concentrates very hard, he can remember the feel of her arms around his waist. Maybe next time, he'll get to tell her he loves her.


End file.
